


Shards

by wilddragonflying



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: Catra-centric, Gen, Honestly not sure how to tag this, Introspection, Post-Canon, Thinking about what might happen with Catra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: An unexpected fall leads to unexpected - but not entirely unwelcome - conversations and revelations.





	Shards

**Author's Note:**

> Got this idea immediately after I finished the first season; I'm really intrigued by how they might handle Catra in coming seasons, but a lot of the redeemed!Catra fics I found focused on Catra joining because Adora, not because Catra decided for herself that the Rebellion was better, or anything like that. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I wanted to explore Catra deciding her future based on what SHE wants, on her past, and what she feels is right. So, this is a bit of a deus ex machina way of doing that, I suppose!

Cold wind whistles past her ears as Catra and She-Ra fight, exchanging blows with the ease and predictability of long-time enemies. Hadn’t always been that way, but that’s where they were now. The still-frozen Whispering Woods glint below the skiff they fight on, the sounds of Horde and Rebellion soldiers fighting their own battle echoing off of the ice. Catra loses herself to the rhythm, to the taunts that fall from her lips without thought, dodging and darting, the steel of the skiff chilly beneath her feet until there’s a sudden metallic scream, and all of a sudden there’s nothing, nothing but She-Ra’s face, mouth shaped around Catra’s name and hand reaching out - 

Catra reaches back too late.

* * *

”Ugh.”

There’s a taste in her mouth like the time she ate a mouse, only twenty times worse - stale blood and bile, making her headache worse with every pounding heartbeat. It takes Catra several minutes to work up the energy to roll onto her front and crack her eyes open, trying to figure out what’s going on and where she is. 

The first thing she sees is green - _growing_ green, which is really weird. She’d fallen over the Whispering Woods, if she was seeing any green, it should be covered in ice. But there’s no ice, no chill in the air. Stifling a groan, Catra manages to raise her head and look around a little more, movements slow and stiff. 

She’s in a clearing, a pond of some kind in front of her. It looks and feels like summer, here; the air is warm on her skin, and she can hear small animals rustling through the bushes and grasses, and birds in the few trees surrounding the pond. There’s the sound of moving water, and she tracks it to a stream, then farther back to a waterfall, coming over a rock wall. 

”Didn’t think there were any ravines like this in the Woods,” Catra mutters to herself as she eases on her knees, and then her feet, cursing at the stiffness in her joints. Once she’s on her feet, she looks behind her, and then sighs.

”First Ones portal, of course,” she says, scowling. She limps over to the triangular mirror, frowning when she realizes that it’s darker than it should be, for having full sunlight on its face. Then, her reflection splits into three, each with a different uniform or outfit on. “What the - “

”Greetings, Catra,” the one in the Horde uniform says. “You are at a tipping point in your life.”

”You should be dead,” the Catra wearing a _Rebellion_ uniform adds. “You fell close enough to our sister mirror, however, and it brought you here.”

”What are you - So what, I’m lying somewhere, slowly freezing to death?” Catra demands. 

”No.” This time, it’s the Catra in civilian clothing who speaks. “You were transported to our home, brought here so that you could see the consequences of your actions, and decide your future.”

”It’s not often that our mirror is activated, even in times of war,” Rebellion suit explains. “That you were brought here is momentous, and you should listen carefully.”

”Listen to _what?_ ”

”We are your futures,” Civilian says, voice calm. Its next words echo with its twins, three Catras replying to the real one. “We will show you our stories, our choices, and when you choose, you will be returned to the Whispering Wood.”

Catra stumbles back, almost tripping over her own feet as she whirls, scrubbing a hand over her face and taking several deep breaths as she takes everything in. One moment, she was fighting She-Ra, then falling off of a skiff, and apparently she just _happened_ to fall close enough to a lost piece of First One’s tech, some kind of portal, that brought her here to show her the _future?_

It doesn’t take long for Catra to decide she wants to know what this mirror will tell her. “Alright,” she says abruptly, spinning back to face the mirror. “Show me.”

Each Catra in the mirror smiles at her, something enigmatic and foreign on its face. “I will show you my story first,” Horde announces, her visage growing until it’s the only one in the mirror. “This is the path you are on now. Look closely, and watch what will happen if you remain.”

The mirror fogs over, green and black smoke obscuring the image for a moment before it clears, revealing a sight that Catra’s only seen in her dreams - what seems like all of Etheria clad in the colors of the Horde, steel and smoke covering the horizon. The view backs out, and Catra sees herself in a grand uniform standing next to Hordak, Scorpia and Entrapta at her side, as - 

” _Adora_ ,” Catra breathes, the sound almost horrified as the scene sinks in.

All of the Princesses, captured and chained, sullen red sparks dancing among the links in their chains, move in an orderly procession towards a stage. A stage Catra has only seen used a few times before. The Catra in the mirror steps forward, chin held high as she looks past the Princesses, to the gathered crowd. There’s Horde soldiers, of course, and behind them are people Catra has seen fighting on the side of the Rebellion. Foot soldiers, civilians, all wearing the same cowed, fearful expression, not a hint of defiance among them. 

”Today, we celebrate our greatest victory yet,” Horde-Catra announces, voice clear and strong, proud but not smug. “Etheria finally bows to the way of the Horde, to the way of order. The Rebellion is no more, and we have taken measures to ensure that it will never rise again. The elemental crystals are under our control, and today, we erase the Princesses from history.” Horde-Catra glances over her shoulder at Hordak, who inclines his head. She looks forward once more, gesturing to the stage. “We are not without mercy - this is a demonstration, but the executions will be swift. Soldiers, ready!”

Catra finds herself unable to look away from Adora’s stubborn face, her studiously blank expression, chin lifted in the only show of defiance she can give, as the countdown commences. The edges of the screen flare brightly, and then it goes black.

It takes several minutes for Catra to find her voice. “How - They - _I_ \- _How?_ ” she asks, almost desperately, as Horde-Catra fades into view once more.

”I left here, determined in my path,” it answers. “The Horde may not be good, but I could not waver. I rededicated myself to the cause, to finding a way to cripple the Rebellion. I trained, used Entrapta’s technology and inventions to make myself stronger, faster. She-Ra and I grew to be matched, and then Entrapta found a way to compromise the Sword of Protection. We spent months planning the battle, picking the field and the best soldiers, the best tactics. In the end, I beat She-Ra, and my soldiers overwhelmed the other Princesses. With that one battle, I won Etheria for the Horde. Without the Princesses, the Rebellion crumbled like dust.”

”You killed Adora,” Catra says hoarsely, too numb from the shock to be horrified.

”I eliminated a threat. The Sword of Protection was destroyed before the execution, but we could not be too sure that She-Ra would not return. Eliminating all of the Princesses ensured that we sent the message that the Horde had won, and would not tolerate any dissent.”

Catra shakes her head, turning away from the mirror and all but stumbling to a stump by the pond. She buries her face in her hands, claws digging into her scalp as she digests what she was just shown. She had become determined to work her way up the ranks after Adora left, had been promoted to Hordak’s second in command after the narrowly-failed attack on Bright Moon, but this? The Catra she had seen was _years_ older; there was much the mirror hadn’t shown her, but Catra couldn’t imagine anything turning her into someone who could watch Adora be executed so… _dispassionately._ Adora had been all but her sister, the most important person in her life - Adora leaving had stung like nothing else, and even now it hurt, but how could Catra become so uncaring?

Her thoughts chase each other around for what feels like hours before Catra finally manages to quiet them, shoving herself almost violently to her feet and stomping over to the mirror, her ears pinned back against her head. “You,” she snaps, pointing at Rebellion. “Show me your story next.”

The smoke that takes over the screen is white this time, sparkling, and when it clears it shows Catra standing next to Adora, arms crossed over her chest as they frown at a battle map. They’re older again, though not as old as the Horde vision. “It’s a trap,” Mirror-Catra says eventually, reaching out to tap one claw against a spot on the map. “They’ll come from this way, cut off your escape.”

”I know,” Mirror-Adora sighs. “But they’ve captured Bow, and taken several civilians hostage. We can’t just leave them there. I could take Glimmer - “

p

”She’s helping Mermista with the Sea Gate,” Mirror-Catra reminds Mirror-Adora, whose shoulders slump as she curses.

”You’re right. There’s no way a message will get to her and get her there fast enough. Do you think you could…?”

Mirror-Catra tilts her head, eyes narrowed in consideration. “That could work. It might have to; we’re stretched fairly thin as it is, and even Spinerella is too far away to call in without putting the civilians in more danger.”

The real Catra watches as the two discuss strategy, part of her taking notes on what they’re talking about, the other part analyzing their body language. They’re… distant, she realizes, for all that they’re standing within a few feet of each other. Friends, colleagues, but nowhere near as close as they used to be. “What’s the story with this one, then?” she asks, hoping she doesn’t sound as invested as she feels.

”I defected,” Rebellion answers. “I considered what I was shown, and decided that I would rather be by Adora’s side as her friend, if I could have nothing else. There was too much history, left undiscussed for too long, and I had made too many attempts to destroy her, for us to become the friends we had been before. But we could work together, and we could chat in between missions. We were no longer at each others’ throats, and I told myself I was content with that, with never having more than a little of Adora’s affection, and always her caution.”

Catra takes in a shaky breath, nodding as the mirror’s words sink in. Even now, when Adora still pleads with her to join the Rebellion, Catra is tempted. She wants Adora back - wants their _past_ back, when it had been just the two of them against the world, but those days are long gone, and unattainable. It only takes her a few minutes this time to gather her thoughts and her composure, gesturing to the mirror once again. “And you?”

”I chose to walk away,” Civilian says simply. There’s no smoke this time, just a simple fade from the image of the civilian-dressed Catra to one of Mirror-Catra speaks with someone that Catra doesn’t recognize, in a place completely unfamiliar to her. “I walked away from the Horde, from the Rebellion, from the war entirely. The Horde was evil, had mistreated me - but how could I trust the Rebellion? Adora was there, but I owed her no loyalty, I told myself. I heard that without my leadership, the Rebellion was eventually able to win, but by that time I was on the other side of the continent, and had established myself as a bit of a loner, but someone who could be counted on to help protect caravans. Everyone in my town knew I had a past, but they knew that I was atoning for it, as well. I was left alone.”

”You were lonely.”

The image in the mirror inclines its head. “I was, much of the time. Eventually, I moved on, and formed new friendships. Adora and the Princesses came through, once; I hid in the forest until they left, unwilling to face any part of my past when I had finally earned the trust of the townspeople.”

Catra sighs, running a hand through her hair as she digests this latest tale. “So I could walk away? Live a normal life?”

”It is an option,” the mirror agrees.

”I don’t want to sit out the war, though,” Catra says with a frown. “I’ve worked too hard - I can’t just walk away.”

Her attention is caught by smoke swirling in the mirror once more; when it clears, there’s a dark figure in the place of the other three. Still Catra, but she can’t make out anything but her own eyes staring back at her. “There is another path - many more,” the figure says, mouth invisible, voice echoing over itself.

”Who are you?”

”I am the Catra who learns. The one who ponders what she sees in each of these visions, and learns something from each without following one to the letter.”

”So what’s your story, then?”

There’s a dark chuckle before Catra gets her answer. “I have many different stories; each one changes depending on what I learn from my siblings. Too many to show without unbalancing the future.”

”Doesn’t your whole schtick unbalance the future, though?”

”I show those who look within three futures, the ones that are all equally likely at the moment they find me. And I tell them that they can still choose their own path, that they do not have to follow those futures. Sometimes people need to be told that there is another path they can find, that they do not need to follow only what others lay out for them.”

Catra opens her mouth, intending to state her opinion about the stupidity of that statement - and then closes it. Hadn’t she been thinking the same thing recently? That there were only two paths before her, if she didn’t just walk away entirely? Horde or Rebellion, those were the only options that Catra had let herself truly contemplate. But if what this mirror says is true, then… She can still find another path.

Catra lets out a frustrated sigh. “I hate First Ones tech,” she mutters, turning away from the confusing mirror so that she can go get a drink from the pond and sit while she thinks. 

There’s no way to measure the passing of time in this clearing; the sun never changes position, the breeze never shifts, so Catra has no idea how long she sits, pondering - all she knows is that it’s long enough for her rear end to go numb, making her wince and limp when she finally stands back up.

She approaches the mirror with a purpose, expression set in determination. “You still there?”

This time there’s four figures who greet her - each of the ones she’d spoken to. “Of course.”

”I’ve made my choice.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be poking at this off and on, but I'd love to see your ideas for what you think Catra's decided ;)


End file.
